


Starcrossed lovers oneshots

by madhatt



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madhatt/pseuds/madhatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for my Frank Castle/Matt Murdock oneshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The things you make me feel (are the ones I hate you for)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those emotions he felt, Matt feared them. He was supposed to fear nothing, yet here he was, trembling at the mere thought of his confused feelings. He was afraid the Punisher would notice, he was afraid he would never know, what Matt really felt for the man. But what he feared the most was one day arriving too late, or not being there at all, and only hearing about the last mission of the Punisher, only to find Frank's dead body, and himself, full of regrets and a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted 48 minutes too late (at least here in Poland), this work is my addition to the first day of [Fratt week](http://fuckyeahfratt.tumblr.com/post/140800380903/fratt-week)
> 
> It is inspired by the scene with the little kid in the 2008 Punisher film. As well as any other scene with Frank and kids ^^
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and if you do, leave a comment!

 

Daredevil was pacing back and forth, still feeling the excitement that came with the fight, as well as the anger that burned in his veins. That white hot irritation always consumed him whenever Punisher was involved. It boiled together with disappointment, and fear, and want. And hate. He hated how low he fell whenever Frank as much as said one word to him, his whole body and his raspy voice giving away how well he knew Daredevil, how well he knew _Matt_ , probably much better that he could ever know himself.

He was _disappointed_ in Frank, for giving in to his thirst for blood and his anger; for the ease with which he turned his back on Matt's ideals and reached for the gun. Matt was disappointed with _himself_ for letting the Punisher do that. Because no matter how many times he told himself he did everything he could to stop the carnage, deep down he knew, if it was any other person, he would try so much more. But the Punisher, it was Frank. Frank, with his overwhelming sadness and profound conviction, that in the times of doubt, almost made Matt tumble.

Matt also _wanted_. He craved this conviction and all the emotions focused on him. Be it hatred, anger, onefold sign of friendship, or care. Matt would take it all. He would take even more. During rare moments of sincerity, Matt admitted to himself, he wanted more. He wanted open affection, those rough hands on his body, for once giving him pleasure, not pain. Those shameful thoughts, that he buried so deep in his heart, he wanted them to turn into reality so bad, it was almost overwhelming.

Those emotions he felt, Matt _feared_ them. He was supposed to fear nothing, yet here he was, trembling at the mere thought of his confused feelings. He was afraid the Punisher would notice, he was afraid he would never know, what Matt really felt for the man. But what he feared the most was one day arriving too late, or not being there at all, and only hearing about the last mission of the Punisher, only to find Frank's dead body, and himself, full of regrets and a broken heart.

It all made him _angry_. It made him furious, that a man that he was supposed to hate, that he fought every step of the way, made him feel so lost and desperate and weak. And during moments like this, after fighting hoards of thugs and keeping Punisher away from them, just so he wouldn't kill even one of them (something he almost never succeeded at), Matt couldn't do that any more. He wanted to howl and curse and punch Frank until he felt better, more sane, more like a hero he was supposed to be.

Unless he was presented with a picture like the one before him at the moment. With his senses he could tell there was a distortion in the Punisher's usual form. With his keen ears he heard the muffled sobbing, the frantic beating of a scared heart. The bubblegum shampoo, he could smell it in the air. Matt realized two things at that moment. In the heat of the battle, he had forgotten about the little girl that run into the alley at the worst moment possible, only to witness the chaos full of blood and pain. This same girl was now clinging desperately to Frank, seeking comfort in the arms of the ruthless man.

All the anger left Matt instantly.

“Are you planning on standing there and listening all night?” Frank's gruff voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Someone should take her home.” Frank's words could've suggested he wanted to pass the girl to Matt as fast as possible, but Matt heard the way the other man tried to soften his voice. For a moment Matt was surprised Frank could care so for the child, but then he remembered about his life before the Punisher and felt a pang of guilt for thinking so carelessly of him.

“Are you trying to suggest it should be me? The Devil?” he asked finally.

Frank snorted. “It's still better than the Death.”

Matt considered Frank's words. They couldn't be further away from the truth. Matt could never understand it, but despite all the violence, pain and desperation that surrounded the Punisher, people of New York seemed to trust him unconditionally. And having to choose, who should save their child and bring her back home safely, Daredevil or the Punisher, Matt was sure most of them would choose the latter. That, and also from the constant shifting of the girl and her almost silent muttering, he could tell, she wasn't willing to let Daredevil get anywhere close.

Matt refused to let himself feel hurt. After all, the Devil was all she could see in him.

“I think she prefers to go with you. Besides, I should take care of those over there.” He pointed to six men next to them. Four were unconscious, two of hem handcuffed to a pipe. The rest managed to get away.

“If I can already hear the police coming, you must've known for some time now, that they are getting close. And it's better if we are not here to welcome them.

Frank was right. It was time for them to go. Matt should just take to the roofs and leave Frank to deal with the child. He was obviously experienced enough to do that.

“What's your name?” asked Frank.

“Carol,” came the muffled reply.

“Do you live nearby?”

“I don't know. I came here with my mom but got lost.”

“Then we'll have to help you find her.” Frank readjusted his hold on the child. “My name is Frank. And my friend here, Daredevil, maybe looks scary, but he's actually really _sweet_.”

It sounded almost like an insult, but Matt decided to let it go. “Maybe it would be better if I just left. I can't exactly accompany you like this,” said Matt instead.

He couldn't know for sure what the Punisher's expression looked like at the moment, but he was sure the man was looking at him, probably with a frown. “I can't think of a better way to find Carol's mom, that have Daredevil and Punisher look for her.”

Matt couldn't argue with that.

That's why, despite his better judgement, he followed Frank and Carol, when they went out of the alley. He also did that because it was a chance to spend some more time with Frank, when they were not fighting whoever tried to kill them. Instead of listening for the Punisher' bullets, he could focus on the steady beat of Frank's heart.

He refused to admit just how relaxing it was.

They found Carol's mother faster that he had thought they would. It only confirmed Frank was right – Daredevil and Punisher looking together for a child's mother created quite a commotion. Thankfully they managed to back out of it as soon as Carol was once again in her mother's arms. Miraculously unnoticed, they disappeared in the shadow of the city, going back to where they belonged.

Still they stayed together. They didn't talk, as they climbed the fire escape to the roof of the closest building. They didn't talk, as they sat at the edge, Frank probably watching the city and Matt simply taking in its many smells and sounds. It was almost _blissful_.

Matt moved his arm to the side, not really having to search for Frank's hand. He found it instantly and covered it with his own. Frank didn't withdrew it, but Matt could swear the other man moved minutely closer to him.

They sat like this for what felt like hours, very rare, peaceful hours. Matt almost believed they could last forever.

 


	2. Care for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Punisher needs someone to care for, and someone to care for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second day of [Fratt week](http://fuckyeahfratt.tumblr.com/post/140800380903/fratt-week) and this time I'm on time!
> 
> This one's inspired by all the moments in the comic books, when Frank and Matt, despite trying to pretend otherwise, worried and cared for each other.

For a man who was supposed to focus solely on his fight against the crime and evil of the world, a lot of Punisher's thoughts revolved around the people that somehow got close to him. There were so many of them. Micro, Jenny, Henry, Rachel, Tuggs... To name just a few. They wanted to help him, thought they could save him from the world around and from himself, but only succeeded in making him care for them and then suffer when he had to let them go. No matter how hard he tried to hide it from them, he always ended up caring and doing everything to save them from the injustice and from himself.

What he had never expected, was to care this much for Mutt Murdock.

To say they were off to a bad start, was an understatement. No matter how much they tried to be civil, sooner or later, they always ended up spatting at themselves, cursing, and when the criminals were dealt with, fighting with fists and kicks and sometimes even bites. One moment they cared, the other they hated.

Until the time, when the hate turned into a habit, a stupid, immature way to release the anger, the disappointment and frustration, that despite their growing affection, the circumstances and their own stubborn attitudes deterred them from seeking concord.

It also made it so much harder to look after the pompous bastard, when most of the time Frank wanted to punch him. And Matt really needed all the looking after he could get.

  
  


Frank once again tried to get up, but it was almost impossible with how painful his whole torso and shoulder was, and a nasty cut on his calf, that went all the way down to his ankle. Yet he had to, if he wanted to save Daredevil from himself. Frank cursed. He was lying here, pathetically weak, and could only watch as Matt punched some guy again and again, not showing any signs of stopping. If he was going to keep it up, and it sure seemed so, he was going to kill the guy.

Not that he didn't deserve that, thought Frank, as he remembered everything they found out about this particular group of degenerates. But that was what Punisher should be considering, not Daredevil. And Frank had to make the world right again.

“Daredevil!” he shouted, and Matt heard him, he could tell, with his shoulders drawing up and the man stilling for a moment, but then continuing with his assault.

Frank growled and once again tried to get up, but it was getting more and more obvious that he was not going anywhere. He cursed. Then he looked to the side, at the other criminal, cowering next to a dumpster. And a gun that fell between them. He quickly made his decision. Tensing all the muscles in his body, he crawled to the gun, quickly checked if it was loaded and shot.

The reaction was instant.

The man shouted as a bullet went straight into his shoulder, but before he even did, Daredevil was already turning around, shocked out of his trance, by the mere sound of the trigger. A second later he threw one of his billy clubs, knocking the gun out of the Punisher's hand.

He stood there panting, unconscious man lying at his feet. He looked terrified.

Frank let out a gasp of air that he hadn't realized he had been holding.

  
  


“Thank you.”

Frank looked up from his leg. He stitched it the best he could, trying not to think about the time long, so long ago, when Henry used to do that for him. The whole time he was working on his wound, Matt was standing on the other side of the room, one of the Punisher's safe houses, silent and lost in thoughts. His mask was long gone, his red hair still damp and unruly. He looked exhausted.

Frank didn't reply. He only grunted in acknowledgement, that he had heard.

But then he looked at Matt once again. There had been so many people in his life he cared for. Still were, and Matt was one of them. And he needed someone to look after him more than others. “Don't follow in my footsteps. No one should do that,” he said and then thought bitterly, just how many had done that, despite him trying to stop them from falling so irreversibly.

Matt still stood there looking lost. It seemed he wouldn't be able to say anything else. That's why Frank was surprised when Matt finally stepped closer and spoke. “When you are done with that,” he pointed to Frank's leg, “I'll help you with your ribs. You won't be able to bandage them yourself.”

He would be able to do that, he had done so many times before, but he didn't say that. Instead, Frank simply nodded, trusting Matt to sense that. Then he once again focused on his leg, finishing the clean up.

Letting all those people close, it got him distracted and weak, but it also made him care for them, as well as made someone care for him. And sometimes even Punisher needed that.

 


End file.
